


Right in Front of You

by alex_wh0



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Exy (All For The Game), Ice Cream, M/M, Oblivious Neil Josten, Striker!Neil, bookstore, door slamming, writer!Andrew
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-22
Updated: 2019-12-22
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:40:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 726
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21899053
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alex_wh0/pseuds/alex_wh0
Summary: Bookstore AU where Andrew is a writer and also owns a bookstore. What happens when Neil wanders in one night?
Relationships: Neil Josten/Andrew Minyard
Comments: 22
Kudos: 221





	Right in Front of You

**September 14, Monday; 9:47pm**

It was almost time to shut shop. Andrew glowered at the clock, as though that would speed time up. There were two more shelves to be stacked and the assistant had gone home early, leaving Andrew to deal with the mess. He sighed, a quiet barely-there sound, and picked at his coffee cup, chipping the paint off. 

The bell at the door jingled and Andrew cursed. _It was almost time to shut shop._ The stranger was wearing running shorts, a loose jersey and an apologetic smile. Andrew scowled at him.

“Shop’s closed.” 

“No it’s not. There’s still 10 minutes left and the sign says open,” the stranger retorted, shaking his auburn hair out of his eyes. 

_Unfair. How is he so hot. Get a grip, Andrew._

Andrew scowled again. “What do you want?”

“Do you have A Minyard’s latest book?” 

Andrew’s vision tilt-shifted and he mentally cursed himself for not keeping his guard up. “Why” he almost barked out. “What do you mean why. Minyard’s latest dropped yesterday. I _need_ it,” auburn-haired, blue-eyed stranger snapped. _Damnit get your thoughts under control, Andrew.  
_

“Minyard’s books are trash and we don’t sell them here. Order one online if you so desparately need it,” Andrew said, now calmly inspecting his nails. He needed a new coat of polish.

The man bristled, and Andrew, for some reason, plowed on. “Do you even like their writing or do you just buy the books because their identity is a mystery? We have people constantly coming in just so they can suss out who Minyard is, as though the answer lies in wait between the bookshelves.”

The man scowled. “I happen to like their writing. Now, I have a flight to catch in six hours and no other way to get the book. Could you help me out?” Andrew sighed for the second time in 15 minutes. “What are you doing here if you have a flight in six hours?” Hot stranger ( _damnit, Andrew_ ) shifted from one foot to another and said, “Had to go on a run. Have a match tomorrow and had to expend some of the anxiety, you know?” And that’s when Andrew noticed the Jersey. _Exy._ And that is when his memory helpfully supplied him with images of a sweaty Neil Josten slamming goal after goal in quick succession at a match four weeks ago. 

_Neil Josten._ Andrew felt his palms sweat. 

“I’ll see if we have a book,” he snapped and went to the back of the store. He hated giving out his books. His editor called him shy but he knew self-deprecation too well to call it by any other name. 

“Found one,” he muttered at Josten, and rang up the purchase. “Thank you,” Josten said, his expression conveying undiluted happiness. 

_Idiot, Andrew thought._

At the door he caved. “What’s your name?” Josten looked surprised for a moment before he said, “Neil Josten. What’s yours?”

“Andrew.”

And after a moment’s hesitation, “Minyard,” he said, slamming the door in Neil’s nonplussed face. _It was finally closing time._

**September 15, Tuesday; 4:45am**

Neil was a bundle of nerves. It would be an easy match against Philadelphia today, but tell his anxiety that. He dug around his bag for the book, and held it in his hands for a moment. The bookstore incident was _so_ weird. He still didn’t understand why the owner - Andrew - had to slam the door in his face like that. 

He opened the door to find a note scribbled on the first page. Neil frowned and took a closer look. 

_Josten, you lean too much to your left when you strike your goals. The goalie knows, believe me. This book is still trash, btw. A Minyard._

Neil felt winded like he’d run a marathon, but here he was, nearly 35,000 feet above ground, secure in his seat. 

_Andrew. Minyard. Andrew Minyard. A Minyard. Door slammer par excellence._

**September 15, Tuesday, 8:35pm**

“Mr. Josten, what led you to score four goals in succession today? Could you tell us your secret?”

Andrew watched as Neil leaned into the mic on TV, blue eyes flashing as he looked into the camera. “Someone told me I lean too much to my left,” and then he _winked_.

If Andrew dropped his ice cream on the carpet that night, no one had to know.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you liked this!! I'm on [Tumblr](https://alex-wh0.tumblr.com/) and on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/alex_wh0). Come say hi x


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